


fake out

by soul_speed



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack Treated Seriously, Dream Smp, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Mild Language, Takes place during exile arc, aka manhunt!dream and SMP!dream get swapped, courtesy of mr innit, ft. too much worldbuilding to account for minecraft mechanics, i literally came up with two separate interpretations of minecraft server mechanics help me, outside pov of exiled tommy, outside pov of... a lot of things if i do more with this, tfw ur just trying to play a fun game with ur pals and the universe resets and reloads wrong, the usual panic that comes with unprecedented timeline swapping, universal crossover, well-needed outside pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29509806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_speed/pseuds/soul_speed
Summary: “Question— where are we?”The stranger stares at him, eyes hard, brows furrowed. “...What?”“Like— what server is this?” He’s vaguely heard of small servers shutting down without warning, ejecting their inhabitants. Seeing another person, he figures that’s what happened, except he somehow got flung into another server instead of dropped off in the hub. Hopefully he’s not accidentally trespassing on someone’s private server.“...The Dream SMP?” the stranger says blankly. “Your server? Dream, did you hit your head or something, man?”...Well, there goes that theory. Not only does this boy he is one-hundred-percent certain he has never seen before in his life know his name, this server is apparently his. Named after him and everything. What the hell.“Uh.” He gives an awkward chuckle, half just to fill the silence. “Yeah. The… Dream SMP. Okaaay. And… who are you?”----Or: a server shutdown mid-manhunt sends Dream to a different server instead of the hub world. Or so he thinks, at first.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 326





	fake out

**Author's Note:**

> i had the idea for this around like. last manhunt? then i forgot abt it, then remembered it randomly and spat this whole thing out in one go. just another pull from "things i thought i wouldn't post then spontaneously decided to".
> 
> anyways you know the drill, if the ccs are uncomfortable with this kind of shit it's gone, please don't interact if u ship people who aren't confirmed fine with it, the works. enjoy

His breath burns like Wither in his lungs as he gasps, straining his tired muscles far past their capacity. He’s beyond exhausted, so far over his body’s own limit that he’s tumbled into a state of burning numbness. All that’s keeping him upright is the pounding adrenaline, spiking with a shriek every time he catches the splinter of branches or rustle of leaves behind him.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been chasing him for, but it’s definitely longer than usual. They must be confident, if they’re pursuing this long without giving up. Grimly, he suspects they have reason to be; their surprise attack had been a blur, but before he’d bolted, he’d glimpsed what looked like full iron armor and possibly the deadly gleam of a diamond axe.

Getting caught is not an option. He has to lose them.

Possibilities flicker through his mind as the forest flies past him. Scaling a tree isn’t an option; he’s too tired to climb quickly enough, and if they have an axe, they could just bring it down. There’s nowhere to hide, not where he wouldn’t be found immediately. Continuing to run is growing less feasible by the second, with hunger gnawing at his empty stomach. He needs a miracle. He needs—

A ravine.

A few leagues ahead, the trees finally taper off, and the breezy grass abruptly cuts away. Beyond that is a long, narrow ravine, gouged into the earth. His heart lurches so hard it’s nearly painful, and with borrowed strength and feeble hope, he sprints for it. There has to be water at the bottom. If not, he’ll make do.

When he reaches the edge, he skids to a momentary stop, just so he can take it in. The ravine is deep and shadowy, mercifully clear of lava, but he doesn’t see any— wait, there. In the corner, an innocuous puddle of water sits, stale and heavy with silt. Thank _god._

“Oh, _Dream!_ ”

He whips around. His pursuers’ arrival is heralded by the noisy snapping of branches and crunching of leaves; they thunder free from the forest like a stampede of winded cows, stumbling and red-faced. They’re just as bone-tired as he is, but somehow, they’ve still got the energy to look smug.

“Nowhere to run, Dream,” Bad says, pale eyes curving with a smile. “You’ve got no way across that ravine.”

“And if you hop down, we’ll just corner you,” George adds, pleased as punch even though he has to pause every other few words just to wheeze. “You’re trapped!”

His hands tighten on the grip of his beaten axe. 

They’re closing in, now, slow, confident steps. They’re all armed to the teeth, decked out in gleaming white armor and wielding axes of their own. Most of them bear pale heads of iron, but as he’d suspected, Sapnap’s glitters with the luxurious sparkle of diamond.

He runs over his own inventory in his head. Uselessly enchanted golden pants, an iron helmet, a shield on its last legs. That axe could take him down in two hits right now. Fighting is not an option.

Possibilities sprawl in a web before him; he could take his chances and try to run past them, into the trees; he could grip his axe and challenge all four of them; he could sprint sidelong along the ravine and attempt to get past it; he could jump down. 

He doesn’t have the energy for the first three. The last is a gamble, but it’s all he’s got.

“I mean, you say I’m _trapped_ , but the thing is…” He bares his teeth behind the mask, a shaky grin of his own. “You never know until you know!”

With that, he whirls back around and leaps off the edge of the ravine, 

Shouts ring out, and they scramble after him. But for one, blissful moment, it’s just him, suspended in the air, with cool wind rushing past him and the weight finally taken from his aching bones. 

Of course, that’s when everything goes wrong.

He feels it first; a sudden, sharp _tug_ in his chest. His vision promptly explodes with color, a thousand blips and streaks of light swarming around him. Sparks of black and stings of static chew on the edges of his vision, popping up and vanishing into thin air like insects. He tries to shout, give _some_ indication of alarm, but no sound escapes. All he can do is gasp as the blackness starts to overtake the brightness, popping up in ever-larger chunks and ea-ting awa-y a-t h-h-his visio— _vis— vis— vis—_

_Error. Error. Error. Error. Error._

_An unexpected error occurred. Reloading._

A flash of white, and the madness is abruptly wiped away. The world slams back into focus, and he barely has a heartbeat to try and reorient himself before he’s falling again. He braces for water, but instead, he slams into mushy, half-solid ground. It squelches beneath his feet, then his knees, and he barely manages to squeeze his eyes shut before he’s treated to a face full of cold, wet mud.

For a minute, he just lays there, mind racing. He jumped into a tiny muddle in a ravine, and yet now he’s sprawled in a mud puddle, far sooner than he should’ve hit the ground. He can feel wind against his hair where there shouldn’t be any, and there’s no shouting when that should be all he can hear. 

Hesitantly, he pushes himself up from the mud and opens his eyes.

He’s not in a ravine, or the forest, or anywhere he recognizes at all, for that matter. Rather, he’s in an unfamiliar swamp, with murky water and patches of muddy earth spanning out as far as he can see. His axe is lying a little ways away, half-submerged.

There had not been a swamp on the other side of the ravine. He hadn’t even seen a swamp in this _world_ before.

Mind racing, he forces to his aching feet, twisting around. Impossibly, there’s just more swamp in every direction, and— oh.

There’s a person.

Instinct has him stiffening, preparing to bolt. But exhaustion roots him to the spot, and curiosity compels him to actually look. And when he does, he realizes it’s not George, or Sapnap, or Ant or Bad. Rather, it’s a complete stranger, empty-handed and armorless, staring at him in utter confusion. 

“Um,” Dream says. “Hi…?”

“What the fuck,” the stranger says, and he sounds young; his voice is all pitchy, like Dream’s own used to be. He is also quite loud. “What the fuck was _that?”_

“I don’t have a clue,” Dream admits, suspecting that whoever this guy is just watched him appear out of thin air. He scratches the back of his neck, doing another slow circle just to make sure he’s not hallucinating. The swamp remains. “Question— where are we?”

The stranger stares at him, eyes hard, brows furrowed. “... _What?”_

“Like— what server is this?” He’s vaguely heard of small servers shutting down without warning, ejecting their inhabitants. Seeing another person, he figures that’s what happened, except he somehow got flung into another server instead of dropped off in the hub. Hopefully he’s not accidentally trespassing on someone’s private server.

“...The _Dream SMP?”_ the stranger says blankly. “ _Your server?_ Dream, did you hit your _head_ or something, man?”

...Well, there goes that theory. Not only does this boy he is one-hundred-percent certain he has never seen before in his life know his name, this server is apparently _his_. Named after him and everything. What the hell.

“Uh.” He gives an awkward chuckle, half just to fill the silence. “Yeah. The… Dream SMP. Okaaay. And… who are you?”

The stranger goes from baffled to _flabbergasted_ , jaw hanging open. For a solid, agonizing minute, he says absolutely nothing, staring at Dream like he’s grown a second head.

“...Dream,” he says finally. “What the _fuck?”_

Alright, so he should know this kid, whoever he is. He does not have even the _slightest_ clue what is going on. Did he knock himself out in the ravine? He pinches himself to check; dull pain throbs through his arm.

“Look,” he says, when the stranger gives no indication of explaining who he is or what’s going on. “I— I think there’s been some kind of mistake? My name is Dream, but I don’t know you, and I definitely don’t _own_ an SMP. I-I don’t know how I got here. I think I got, like, evicted from my server somehow, and for some reason, it dropped me here. I’m sorry. If you just point me to the hub warp, I’ll be on my way.”

Dead silence meets this declaration. The stranger has taken to staring at him oddly, now. After a moment, he edges a few, tentative steps closer, feet sloshing in the brown water. He’s barefoot, Dream realizes. And his clothes are worn to threads. 

“...What happened to your armor?” He asks. 

“My— huh?” He glances down and finds himself still in his manhunt scavengings. Surprisingly, the gold leggings are no worse for durability. He knocks a fist against the helmet and finds it’s the same. “Nothing? It’s still intact.”

“Your _netherite_ ,” the stranger says pointedly. “What, did you drop it in a hole and blow it up while I wasn’t looking?”

The words are oddly sharp, as is the way his mouth twists into a bitter mimicry of a smile. There’s context here, a reference to something that goes flying right over Dream’s head. All he can do is blink at the stranger dumbly. God, he _wishes_ he had netherite; that would single-handedly quash any challenge of the manhunt, but it would be funny.

The silence stretches between them. Dream itches the back of his neck again and offers, “I… don’t have any netherite?”

The stranger’s eyes narrow, calculating. Dream opens his mouth to explain the whole _manhunt thing_ , promise that he doesn’t usually flounce around in just crappily-enchanted gold leggings and a dinged-up helmet, only for his back to promptly slam into the muddy water with a splash. A boot pins his chest to the muck, and when he tilts his head back, a stone sword finds the column of his throat.

Instincts kick in; even weaponless, he struggles, attempting to sweep the stranger’s legs from beneath them and roll to his feet. But earlier’s chase has drained him, and with the adrenaline worn off, he’s beyond spent. His swings are clumsy and weak, and eventually, he lets his limbs flop to the ground. The sword digs in, enough to bite, but not to bleed.

“I could kill you right now,” the stranger says. “I— I _am_ going to kill you right now.”

His voice is shaking. He doesn’t sound like he wants to kill Dream; his words seem more like he’s hyping himself up to do it. Not even that— _convincing_ himself to do it.

Dream can’t find the energy to argue. Dying always sucks, but maybe when he respawns, it’ll be back on the manhunt server. Does being killed by a third party end the manhunt? Are they going to have to amend the rules again?

“Dream,” the stranger repeats, a little strangled. “I’m going to kill you. I’m going to take one of your lives. Right here, right now.”

One of his lives? He’s got no idea what the hell that means. Is other Dream, mysterious server owner and netherite-wearer Dream, like… a cat or something? With the whole nine lives things?

Catboy Dream, ha.

Oh, right, there’s a sword to his throat. That stings.

“Okay,” he says. “Uh. Have fun?”

The sword stiffens, then digs into his neck, enough to draw blood. He grimaces, and waits for the real pain to come.

A moment passes in dead silence. Then another. Then,

“What the _fuck_ ,” the stranger hisses, and the sword vanishes from his neck. It promptly hits the ground beside him with a wet sound, and he looks up to find the stranger clutching his hair, staring at him with wild eyes. “What the _fuck_ , man, who _are_ you?”

Oh, that was a test. Bit of a grim test, but he thinks he passed, so?

“Not who you think I am, apparently. ...Can I stand up?”

“Why are you asking _me?_ ”

“You just had a _sword_ to my throat! I don’t want you to, like, jump me again!” But he is eager to get out of the muck, which is steadily seeping into his clothes, so he rolls up to his feet. The stranger promptly skitters back a few feet, like he expects Dream to bite him. Dream frowns. Is he really all that threatening?

“So, are we… good? You’re not gonna try to kill me again?”

“I guess,” the stranger mutters. “As long as you don’t, like, backstab me.”

“I don’t know you,” Dream says. “Why would I kill you?”

The stranger’s eyes rake over him, taking him in. Dream feels briefly self-conscious of his mud-spattered hoodie, then realizes the stranger isn’t really any better off, what with his dirt-stained shirt and mangled jeans. 

“You really don’t know who I am,” he tells Dream’s shoes, like he can’t believe it. His eyes slide up to Dream’s face once more, and he visibly swallows, then thrusts out a hand.

“I’m Tommy. You can address me as _Alpha Male_.”

Despite himself, Dream snorts a laugh. “I am _not_ calling you that,” he snickers, reaching out to take Tommy’s hand. It stiffens slightly on his approach, but doesn’t withdraw. Against the black of his glove, Tommy’s fingers are pale, the bruises on his knuckles all the more apparent. Harsh world, it seems.

The second the handshake is over, Tommy snatches his hand back to his chest, examining it as if checking all his fingers are still there. Dream just blinks at him. Why is Tommy so scared of him? Is this, like, an anarchy ‘kill-or-be-killed’ server?

“Look,” he says, just to clear the air. “I don’t know… what this server’s like, or who you are, or anything, but I promise I’m not gonna hurt you. I… probably couldn’t even if I wanted to, so.” He shrugs. 

Tommy stares. “That is... so fucking weird to hear from you.”

“Why? Is your Dream some crazy murder machine or something?”

It’s meant as a joke, but Tommy actually flinches, straightening minutely.

“Oh, shit,” Dream says. “Is my doppelganger evil?”

Tommy barks out a hysterical laugh, lacing his hands over his face. “...Yeah,” he says, muffled into his palms. “He’s— he’s a real bitch.”

So Catboy Dream is evil. That’s… huh. Well, at the very least, he’s gonna have a hell of a story to tell when he gets home.

“Well, if you ever see him, tell him the cooler Dream sends his regards.” He dusts himself off, grimacing at the grime. He usually has to clean the hoodie, but the mud is just excessive, really. “So, any chance you could help me get to the hub warp before someone else mistakes me for evil Dream and tries to kill me?”

Tommy’s brow furrows. “You said that before. The hell is a _hub warp?_ That sounds like a disease.”

Dream blinks. “A… _hub warp?_ As in a warp to the server hub?”

“Hub,” Tommy repeats, rolling the word around in his mouth. “Yeah, sorry, man. No clue what that is.”

What the _hell_ is this server? “Well, how do you… leave the server? Like, to go home?”

“I… live here?”

Is this a _perma-server?_ Catboy Dream runs a _perma-server?_ He thought those were, like, official government-run deals. Also, aren’t perma-servers legally required to be set to peaceful? He swears he saw a slime splashing around a minute ago.

“Still, there has to be _some_ way to leave the server.”

Tommy squints at him. “I mean… Yeah, you just… leave, and walk until you find claimed land, I guess.” 

“You— What?” That doesn’t make any sense. “You’re saying that all servers are… on the same world?”

“Yeah? It’s a big fuckin’ world. Why, how do _you_ think it works?”

“It’s like— dimensions,” Dream says, feelingly light-headed. “Different temporary worlds that you can access from a hub. You can rent them and stuff.”

“What the fuck,” Tommy says. “That’s bullshit.”

“You’re telling me that _every server_ is just— on the same world! _That’s_ bullshit!”

“That’s just how things work!” Tommy shouts back. “Seriously, man, I have no idea what you’re talking about. _Hub warps,_ and whatever the fuck— It’s just the world!”

“What the hell,” Dream says. This _has_ to be a nightmare. Or maybe this is some kind of fucked-up cult server where they’re all brainwashed into believing that other servers don’t exist. They should have _access_ to other servers, even just in communications, how— 

“Wait,” he blurts, pulling out his communicator. His communicator, Christ, he’s an idiot, he can just _message_ Sapnap and everyone, figure out what server he’s on and get them to come get him. He pulls up the screen with a tap of his fingers, eyes flicking over the display.

_Server: [NULL]_

_[Error Loading Inbox: No Signal]_

_[Error Loading News: No Signal]_

_[Error Loading Friends: No signal]_

_[Would you like to sync chat to local output?] [Yes] [No]_

“What,” he says faintly.

Tommy’s crept around to peer over his shoulder, still standing out of arm’s length. “Woah,” he says. “That’s a weird fuckin’ display.”

Dream whirls around. “Let me see yours.”

Immediately, Tommy pales, taking a sharp step back. Right, Dream remembers. The Dream Tommy knows is evil. And Christ, he’d meant ‘evil’ in a joking way. Assumed Tommy meant he was a dick. Now, all bets are off, and he’s starting to suspect Catboy Dream is actually, legitimately fucked-up. Does he have something to do with Tommy’s bruised knuckles? And… holy _shit_ , now that he’s looking, the kid has a lot of scars. What the _hell._

Right. Focus. Communicator.

“Sorry, sorry, that came out harsh,” he says placatingly. “I’m just— kind of freaked out right now. Could you please show me what your communicator display looks like?”

“...Yeah, sure,” Tommy says, inching closer. He taps his communicator, and Dream watches the display pop up. Where his own is simple and sleek, Tommy’s is… clunky. It flickers every now and then, and the text wobbles. More concerningly, there’s no… off-server related tabs, like news, or inbox, or whatever. There’s only the chat, a whispers tab, and the usual inventory stuff. All server-specific things. No reference to the outside world.

“Huh,” Dream says. He needs to lie down. The mud is looking more and more tempting by the second.

“That’s what everyone’s looks like,” Tommy says, flicking it off. “I’ve never seen one like yours.”

“That’s what she said,” Dream mumbles without thinking. Tommy barks a laugh. Dream’s lips give a wobbly quirk, then fall back. Slowly, he sinks to his knees.

Right. Okay. He’s on a weird perma-server which is apparently the _only_ server, because the rest of the universe has just ceased to exist, with no idea how he got here and no idea how to leave. No idea if he _can_ leave. This is fine? This is fine.

“Uh, Dream?” Tommy shuffles closer, hesitant. “You good, man?”

“What the hell,” Dream says, clutching his head. “I just wanted to play manhunt.”

“... _Manhunt?_ ”

“Game I play with my friends, where I kill the dragon as fast as possible, and they have to try and stop me. We— we rent out worlds to do it.” It’s common knowledge, these days. They’re decently famous for them. And yet Tommy has no idea.

“Kill the _dragon?_ ”

He stops. Breathes. Slowly looks up.

“Please tell me you know what the Ender Dragon is.”

Tommy stares. Dream buries his face in his hands and resists the urge to scream. God, where’s Bad to calm him down when it really matters. 

All things considered, he does a decent job of it on his own. He forces his breathing to slow into something manageable with a few harsh pants, then tangles his fingers in the hem of his hoodie to ground himself. Despite everything, he’s still himself. There’s at least that.

“I owe you one, Bad,” he murmurs under his breath. It’s intended for himself, but Tommy perks up.

“Bad? Like _BadBoyHalo?”_

His head snaps up, eyes wide. “You _know him?”_

“Yeah? Kind of. He runs the Badlands. We make fun of him sometimes.”

Bad is _here?_ And runs some kind of faction? _How?_

...Who else is here?

“Do you know Sapnap?”

Tommy snorts. “Of course I know Sapnap—”

“George? Georgenotfound?”

The smile drops. “Yeah.”

“Antfrost?”

“...Vaguely, he’s with Bad.”

They’re all here. How are they all here?

“Who all is here? In the, the…” What was it called? “The DreamSMP.”

Tommy blinks, furrows his brows at him, then shrugs. “Well, there’s me, um, Dream, T-Tubbo, Fundy, Big Q— Quackity, Sapnap, George, Bad, Skeppy—”

“ _Skeppy?”_

“Yeah? Of course he’s fuckin’ here, him and Bad are glued at the hip.” Tommy snorts. “Then there’s Ponk, and Punz, and Eret, and Purpled, and all those—”

“Stop, stop, slow down,” Dream says, breathless. His friends are all _here?_ On this server? It doesn’t make sense. It’s not making any sense.

“You asked me to tell you!” Tommy says. 

“I didn’t expect _everyone I know_ to be here!” He says, clutching his head. Well, he doesn’t know _everyone._ Fundy and Quackity are new names— so is Tubbo. But they’re… vaguely familiar. He knows them. How does he know them?

“Who else?”

Tommy falters. “Um, there’s Techno— Technoblade, and Philza, and—”

Now _those_ are names he knows. Philza’s that legendary no-death world survivor with the crazy builds he posts on all the sharing boards. And he’s met Technoblade, when they dueled for title of best PvP-er. He knows for a _fact_ Techno doesn’t play on worlds like this, and Philza only ever flies solo. It’s impossible for them to be here.

Wait. If he recognizes their names, then he has to recognize the others. He squeezes his eyes shut, wills himself to know.

Quackity’s name pops up first. He’s not a world-renter as much as a friendly guy; everyone knows him. Dream’s never met the guy, but apparently he’s funny as hell. And Fundy— he’s seen that name on the world-alter boards. He’s a world-changer, like them. Tubbo, he’s heard of him in passing; he does redstone engineering, maybe, but also messes around with some other guy, T-something…

Tommy. TommyInnit.

“You’re TommyInnit,” he says, and everything starts clicking into place.

“Yeah?” Tommy says, brows pinching. 

“You rent worlds,” he says. “I’ve seen you at hub, I think.”

“Still don’t know what a hub is,” Tommy says. And impossibly, Dream believes him. Because it’s all starting to click, in an impossible way, and he doesn’t want to believe it, but it _fits._

“Tommy,” he says. “Your Dream. The server admin. When I appeared, what happened?”

“You just… replaced him.” Tommy says, and Dream’s stomach sinks like a stone. “One second he was there, full netherite and everything, and then you appeared and ate shit in the mud.”

“Okay,” Dream says weakly. “Okay. So. Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think, somehow, I’m from a parallel universe. And I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this was just an excuse to write not-hating-each-others-guts dream and tommy dynamic i wanted them to be friends in the SMP your honor  
> sliight bit of creative license in that the manhunt described isn't intended to reference an actual manhunt and i have no idea if there's a swamp nearby on the dreamsmp. in my head tommy was fleeing dream when the swap occured so they're not in logstedshire. shrug
> 
> if you see typos lmk this is being posted at 5 am and i cannot be bothered to read over it  
> "will you continue this" not a fuckin clue folks maybe i will but i make no promises


End file.
